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The Old Homeplace

My travel trailer is located by the house built by my Grandfather, Acie Smith, in 1946. The house is now uninhabitable, but still standing. How long it will stand is anybody’s guess. For now, it evokes many fond memories of my childhood.

My earliest memory is a painful one. I had a bad case of Shingles, and my back was one huge scab. The house was new, and did not yet have steps at the kitchen door. I got too close to the threshold, slipped and slid down the raw edge on my back, ripping the scab off and taking with it dozens of what we called cores. It left behind holes in my back, and 70 years later, the scar is still visible. After that, I healed quickly, but to this day I am careful about getting too close to the edge of a dropoff.

More pleasant memories are of lying in front of the blazing fireplace and reading the Sears, Roebuck catalog. As the years went by, I progressed from roller skates, to bicycles, to guns, to motorcycles. Somewhere in that progression, I started taking peeks at the women’s underwear pages, but we won’t talk about that.

The kitchen was my favorite place. There were always good smells, and I got my first taste of very sweet coffee with lots of milk there. My Grandmother “Nanny” made the best biscuits I’ve ever tasted, topped with home-churned butter and sprinkled with sugar. My brothers and sisters can attest to the fact that her Coconut Cake was the best ever. It was a vanilla cake with either hickory nuts from the front yard tree, or black walnuts from the back yard. We kids were often tasked with cracking and picking the meat from the very hard shells but never complained because the reward was worth the effort. Sadly for us, the recipe went to Heaven with her, but I’ll bet the angels love it.

The old house should be torn down, but none of us want to do it. We all have wonderful memories, and when I look at if I can still see my Grandmother in her kitchen, mixing her wonderful cake.


Growing Old Gracefully

Sounds like something we should all do, doesn’t it? Well, that ain’t gonna happen. I’m old, but I am not going to act like an old man. No front porch rocking chair for me. I’ll celebrate 75 years of annoying others by not acting my age in December, and look forward to more.

During the hunting season, I live in a travel trailer in Sabine County Texas on family land, and spend a good deal of time in the woods.  The rest of the year, I live in Panama and ride my motorcycle to get around.

I make and shoot slingshots, I like old cowboy movies, and I listen to a lot of 50s and 60s Rock and Roll. My heroes are Roy Rogers, John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, and Audie Murphy. My all-time favorite author is Louis La’Amour, and I am still searching for the few stories I haven’t read or do not own.

I’m a libertarian, which means I believe in small government, no more than needed to maintain order, pave the roads, and deliver the mail. We have a whole lot more than we need, but fortunately not as much as we pay for. I think Democrats and Republicans, in large part, are enemies of the Constitution.

With that in mind, join me in my often rambling, sometimes coherent thoughts as I wend my way through what are supposed to be my golden years, though I have yet to see any gold.